Ten Reasons Why HB Doesn't Like Mildred Hubble
by Blondie47
Summary: ...and one why she does! / What the title says! No pairings, just for the laughs!/CHAPTER 3 IS UP!
1. Chapter 1

AN: I just needed a break from all the studying and HB/Drill drama in my head and wanted to to something fun for a change. I am going to update my I Feel Everything fanfic as soon as I get my beta-ed chapter back, no worries. ^_^ This one is going to have 11 chapters, each chapter representing a reason why Miss Hardbroom doesn't like Mildred (and then one reason why she does). It's for fun and amusment and I hope you'll get a few laughs out of it. Enjoy and tell me what you think (ideas for next chapters/reasons why HB doesn't like Mildred are very welcomed too!).

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_Ten Reasons Why Miss Hardbroom Doesn't Like Mildred Hubble (and one why she does)_

**Reason #1: The Smile**

The first day of a new school year is always stressful for Constance. She doesn't mind the welcoming procedures or filling in all the papers about the new girls. In fact, that is the easiest of it all. Much harder is to make a good impression on the first year. Of course, she has been building her reputation even before they came. All it took was a silly story about turning a troublesome pupil into a frog. The word spread quickly among the newcomers, mostly thanks to Griselda and Fenella who took great delight in scaring the youngest girls with stories about Miss Hardbroom's wickedness. But even with the story out she has to impress the new girls in order to gain respect.

Mother Nature was kind to her: blessing her with a tall and bony body that frightens the girls, especially when the witch straightens up and looks down at them. The leather dress she wears ever so often adds to it a rather dangerous spark, letting the girls know she's not to be messed with. She's got the strict face, the stiff posture and the powerful magic. She is the fearsome potion teacher and the girls need to be taught that the very first day they come to the Academy. Secretly listening to the boring girl-talk in order to appear in the middle of a conservation just to remind them that she could, indeed, hear _anything at any time_ is always incredibly exhausting. But it has to be done. Respect and discipline – that is all she demands and she won't settle for anything else.

"Thersalia Honeybloom?" she calls out a name and looks at the new girls. A small blonde nervously raises her hand.

"Here."

"Here what? Miss Honeybloom, this is a school for witches, NOT a summer camp! I believe you are aware that your teachers are superior witches who deserve to be addressed properly – they are not to be spoken to as if they were your fellow classmates! Next time I want to hear a proper and respectful answer, not a one-word response as if you were not able to talk in complex sentences. Is that understood?"

"Yes…yes, Miss Hardbroom!" the stressed girl says, looking as if she is about to faint.

Constance opens her mouth to start her welcoming speech. Griselda – as every year – stands behind her and wordlessly mouths the words exactly as the deputy headmistress is saying them, the speech always the same. The witch allows her to do so in order to scold her after the speech in front of the first graders and assign her five hundred lines. The girl apologies and promises to behave the next time. As every year, Griselda thanks to Miss Hardbroom for _only_ five hundred lines and the first graders gasp at how strict the system at Cackles is. Of course, Constance knows the fourth grader is not going to give her any lines and Griselda knows that she doesn't have to. It's a secret pact between the two of them: and it mustn't be known to anybody else, for it would have a devastating effect on Gris's rebellious spirit and HB's disciplinary rules. They do not even know why they share such a ritual but they both benefit from it in a way; the teacher believes it helps her to be feared and for the student it is a way of apologizing for the trouble that is yet to come that year (like when they start a riot or accidentally throw a bucket of water at her to prove that she's not a wicked witch and the water cannot melt her).

By the time she sends the new girls to the castle, she's already become the most hated teacher. She is proud of that title because – as she knows – the people you hate the most are the very ones that teach you the best. Respect makes the pupils listen in the class, fright makes them do their homework, discipline makes them responsible and the rare praise from her makes them feel proud of themselves. It is Constance's style of teaching and after so many years it has became her lifestyle as well. All goes well; all goes according to the plan.

Just as the nervous newcomers are about to enter the castle, they hear a scream and turn around just to see a tall girl in a uniform running out of the forest. She has two brown braids of hair framing her freckled face and she looks worried as she runs towards Miss Hardbroom.

"My broom!" the girl shrieks and hides behind the fearsome potions mistress.

There is a broom following the girl, flying out of the forest and trying to attack her. Unfortunately it misses its target and knocks down Constance instead, sending her to the ground in not a very graceful way. Of course, even from the ground she is able to perform a simple reversing spell that stops the broom and makes it hover in the air as obediently as it should. The first graders giggle when they see her on the ground and even though she shoots them one of her most disapproving looks to silence them, some of them are still smiling. They seem to relax a bit, seeing that there are moments when the witch doesn't have to be feared. Miss Hardbroom is no longer viewed as the highest authority, since Mildred doesn't look like she's scared of her at all. Why should _they_ be scared then?

"Mildred Hubble!" she manages to say, her voice rising with every letter in the name.

"Yes, Miss?" Mildred says with a small smile that she cannot help but summon on her face because no matter how much trouble she got herself in again (by now, she's used to it anyway), she still finds it amusing that the strict woman was attacked by her broom.

Constance assigns her hundreds of lines and essays and speaks in the high pitched voice and shouts and then disappears in the thin air. Still, Mildred is there smiling and that smile – oh that smile! – is one of the reasons why she finds the girl the most irritating student she's ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Remember when Mildred accompanied Hettie on her first school day? Remember how she folded her arms before she dematerialized? Noticed the position of her fingers? I know you were thinking the same thing I was! *giggles* Enjoy!

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_Ten Reasons Why Miss Hardbroom Doesn't Like Mildred Hubble (and one why she does)_

**Reason #2: A Copy-cat**

All the girls are excited and nervous as Miss Hardbroom goes on and on about how this is one of the most important days of their lives. They all know that already and her speech is only making them more nervous and restless. Constance smiles at this because after all, the whole point of the speech is to make the girls wait and to keep them on the edge. She enjoys seeing them so tense and worried. It makes up for all the times they made her irritated by their snarky remarks…not one of them feels like commenting her hairstyle _now_.

"Remember girls, the belief that witches can be divided into social classes based on what fingers they use to control their magic is false and old fashioned - a belief that was made up in the Dark Ages in order make it easier for the Dark Ministry of Magic to confiscate the lands of the poor lower class witches."

She knows the young pupils know this from their History class but she feels that especially in _this_ class it is essential that she repeats it. Looking directly at Ethel Hallow, she adds: "I will not tolerate any signs of discrimination among my students."

They all nod and step from one foot to another, fidgeting. Miss Hardbroom clasps her hands together and sighs. "Alright. Before we start, can somebody remind us what are the basic fingers positions?"

Of course, Maud Moonshine raises her hand. The witch gestures her to speak.

"Well there are three types of magical gestures that enable us to express our magic without using words. First one is called_ the pointer_, because a person simply points their pointing finger at their target and they can wordlessly perform magic. Then there is _the crosser _type - that is when the pointing finger and the middle finger are crossed and pointed at something. And then the third type is very rare, it's when a witch uses her own combination of fingers to do magic."

"Yes, there were even cases of witches using their thumbs to perform magic," Constance adds and the class giggles at the image. Pointing a thumb at someone is not exactly the most elegant way of casting a spell.

"We will start with the pointer. Most of the witches can channel their best magic with their pointing fingers. What you will do is find out whether the style works for you as well." The girls point their fingers at the training items they brought – every one of them was asked to bring an item with them that could be damaged in case something goes wrong with their spells.

"Remember, you cannot _speak_ the spells! You simply have to think the spell, point your finger and the magic will find its way."

All the girls nod, impatient to start.

"Turn your objects into chickens, girls!" she commands and watches the girls pointing at the objects, eyes fixed upon the items in deep concentration. After a few moments there are exactly eight chickens running around. Constance smiles when she sees this, delighted that most of the girls have just discovered the way to perform their spells wordlessly. Her joy, however, is short-lasted because before she even manages to write down the names of the girls who found out they are the 'pointer' types, she sees the chickens chatter excitingly, obviously in distress. There is a cat – a kitten, really – chasing the chicks around, trying to play with them. Chaos erupts as the chicks are now all over the room and the girls do not know how to control them. They are chased by the kitten and the kitten is chased by one of the students. A dangerous spark lights up in Miss Hardbroom's eyes as she recognizes the student.

"MILDRED HUBBLE!"

The girl, in her vain attempt to catch the kitten, stumbles over one of the yellow chicks and almost falls. Mildred looks up and bits her lower lip, fearing the angry potions teacher. Miss Hardbroom waves her hand and in a moment, all the chickens (and one black kitten) turn back into common objects – glasses, brushes, pencils and many more. The embarrassed girl picks up her brush from the floor and walks to the teacher.

"A **chicken**, Mildred. What is so unclear about the word chicken? As long as I know, chickens are small, yellow with beaks – not black, furry and purring! Can't you get anything right, girl?"

"I am sorry, Miss Hardbroom. I_ really_ wanted to turn my brush into a chicken. I am sure I thought of the right spell...it just somehow came out wrong!" Mildred defends herself.

"It always 'somehow comes out wrong' when it comes to you, Mildred," Miss Hardbroom rolls her eyes.

"I don't know what I did wrong, I swear. I tried my best!"

"Maybe Millie is not the pointer type," Enid interferes, gaining a wicked look from HB. "My grandma was the crosser and every time she used just one finger to cast a spell, she would mess it up."

"Alright, that is an acceptable and believable excuse for Mildred's mix-up," the teacher agrees. Mildred is very lucky to have such good friends who are not afraid to stand up for her. _The girl is always so incapable of defending herself_, she thinks. Oh, how she hates that virtue.

"Now, the girls who successfully turned their items into chickens with their pointing fingers - raise your hand!"

Eight girls out of twelve proudly raise their hands, including Maud, Ruby and Jadu. Miss Hardbroom writes down the names.

"All of you who didn't manage to cast a spell with your pointing finger, stay in the room. The rest can go to their chambers and practice their witchcraft _in silence._ And in the same silence I recommend you move through the corridors because the other classes are still in session," she adds when the girls start to whisper between themselves.

There are four young witches left in the class. Mildred, Enid, Ethel and Tansy Weirdstone.

"Cross your pointing and middle finger and try to turn your items into chickens again," Miss Hardbroom commands. The girls do as they are told and after a few moments, there are three chickens on the floor. And a single yellow mitten.

"A mitten, Mildred?!"

The young witch looks at her with pure desperation in her eyes. So it is true after all, she _is_ the worst witch ever!

"Well, maybe…" Enid starts but Miss Hardbroom silences her with her raised hand.

"Shush! I do not wish to listen to all the possibilities how turning a brush into a mitten instead of a chicken can be blamed on _something else_ than Mildred's lack of magic knowledge! You three may go now."

"What about Mild---" Enid starts.

"OUT!"

Not wanting to be turned into a frog, the pupil obeys and leaves the classroom with Ethel and Tansy. Miss Hardbroom focuses her attention back on Mildred Hubble, who looks like she's about to start crying. This sort of behavior irritates her to no end. She sighs.

"What am I to do with you? You are not the pointer type, nor are you the crosser type. I am either overestimating or underestimating your magical abilities. You know what my opinion is, Mildred, therefore I sincerely hope you will prove me wrong by showing me that you can do magic with your own, unique combination of fingers."

Mildred bits her lower lip and nods. "I can try…" Even though Miss Hardbroom doesn't like the student all that much, she encourages her to try again. "Go ahead, maybe try your thumb?" she offers. It takes five more attempts till Mildred realizes what combination works for her. When Miss Hardbroom isn't looking, she points her little finger and her pointing finger at the brush and think of the right spell – and unexpectedly, the item turns into a lively ball of yellow fur. She smiles and tears of joy appear in her eyes. She's done it!

"Do I hear a chicken?"

"Yes, Miss!"

The teacher is relieved – so the girl _can_ do magic after all. She turns around to face her: "Well done, Mildred."

"Thank you, Miss."

"Since I have spend more time with you finding out what your magical gesture is than with any other student, may I have the privilege of knowing what it actually is?" she asks in an annoyed voice.

The young witch immediately turns a shade of red. Miss Hardbroom knows something is rotten in the state of Denmark by simply seeing that apologetic look on her student's face. Mildred raises her right hand and shows her the gesture.

"You are not serious, Mildred Hubble," Constance turns pale. The girl cannot possibly have the same magical gesture like she does!

"I am afraid I am…"

Mildred apologizes a few more times before she leaves and runs to her friends. Constance Hardbroom is left alone in the classroom, wondering why does the universe hate her so much. Of all the students at Cackles Academy, it must be THAT girl who shares the same magical gesture with her. The mere thought of the clumsy girl being compared to a witch like her in _any_ way insults her.

The fact that the two of them share something so intimate as a unique magical gesture makes her dislike the annoying girl even more than is professionally acceptable.

"I swear that girl will make me an alcoholic one day," the witch says when she summons herself a shot of vodka.


	3. Chapter 3

A HUGE thank you goes to smrtijedka who helped me to finish the chapter a lot.:D Also I apologize to all the Twilight fans - I mean no harm, I am only writing what HB would think!:P Enjoy the chapter and don't forget to review! xoxo

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_Ten Reasons Why Miss Hardbroom Doesn't Like Mildred Hubble (and one why she does)_

**Reason #3: Low Self-esteem**_  
_

There are many joys of being a teacher.

There is the joy of seeing young people positively affected by the your influence, joy of seeing talented students using the opportunities to learn and to put their abilities to use, the joy of hearing a simple 'thank you' from a former rebel of the class and the feeling of achievement when seeing the excited young souls graduate and go on with their lives, knowing a part of you will always live on in them.

Sitting in her chair and marking the latest homework assignment, Constance Hardbroom briefly wondered why on earth did she chose to be a teacher because at that moment, the only joy she could think of was a bullet in the head to end her suffering.

You could see the sitting woman was tall simply by the way she had to bend down to read the papers -an action during which she sighed and groaned, occasionally emitting a sound that suspiciously sounded like a growl. Her dark brown hair was let down, a hairstyle very unusual for the witch unless it was a Halloween night – thinking about it, the paper grading_ was_ like the worst nightmare so it might as well been a night worth of a Halloween hair-do. She wasn't wearing any make up, not even her famous Death Glare eyeliner and the the lack of Killer Red lipstick was also surprising. Even though the woman was sitting in Constance Hardbroom's chamber and behind Hardbroom's table you could easily mistake her for someone else – especially when wearing a dark-green silk pyjamas that not only were _not_ black (gasps!) but also looked comfortable. Comfortable clothes and the potions mistress were terms rarely used in one sentence by the girls of Cackle's Academy and if so then the sentence probably was: "HB magiced away all my comfortable clothes again this year!" and was probably uttered by Fenella Feverfew who was trying to start a new fashion of wearing colorful, comfy jumpers over her school uniform in winter months. Needless to say, Constance Hardbroom did not approve of such vulgarity.

"Good heavens!" she suddenly shrieked while reading one of the papers she was grading. The feather pen in her hand looked like a sword when she wrote on the paper with it, almost stabbing it, the red ink not being that different from blood.

Who would have ever thought that a simple assignment like the one she had assigned earlier would make her wince in disgust and gasp in surprise when grading the works of her students. Who would have ever thought that '_Write a five hundred words essay on your favorite book, including a brief summary and a personal opinion' _would turn out to be almost a heart-stopping experience for Constance. After all, the logic behind it made perfect sense: girls needed to read more and be able to reflect back on the books they have read and form a well-thought over opinion about them. The only thing the deputy did not think of was the _kind_ of literature her students were reading nowadays. It seemed that the times when Jane Austin was the most erotic story and the greatest adventure of all times was when Alice discovered Wonderland were long gone. Instead, Constance read about stories filled with bad romance (even though that was a bit biased because the witch considered any romance involving men a bad one), violence, silly high school problems or American brats discovering they are princesses.

She put Drusilla's essay about some zombie apocalypse aside (the sentence '_I think the most important lesson I learnt from this book is to shoot zombies in the head, not the neck,'_ earned the girl a low C) and fearing what might come next, she moved on to Enid's homework.

At first, she was pleasantly surprised. Unlike Drusilla's book, this one did not start in a laboratory from which a dangerous virus leaked but as any other normal book: a girl moving to a new town. Being an outcast, clumsy and somewhat full of poetic thoughts...yes, a girl like any other. Constance was ready to write a B plus on the paper (the highest grade anyone could get from her) when she read one sentence where her eyebrows shot up and her mouth opened in surprise.

"He is a WHAT and he does WHAT in sunlight?"

As she read on, Constance Hardbroom disapproved of almost all the storylines in the book: first, everyone knew that vampires did not sparkle in the light. They even avoided light – not because it would burn them, as other silly vampire literature tried to tell us – but because vampires were directly connected to mosquitoes and during the day they preferred mating in the shadows. Second – why would that silly Bella fall for someone as ignorant as Edward? Constance wondered how come these books did not make young girls go lesbian after reading about all the stalking and bossing around from pathetic sparkling vampire guys. The potions mistress looked at the pile of papers she had just read and put Enid's on the top with a heavy, overly dramatic sigh. For a moment she considered a quick memory-erasing spell to save her from her desperate realization that no, there really was no way the girls would grow up to be a well-educated ladies as she wanted them to be – but then she just shook her head and stood up, her back cracking from sitting down for too long.

The witch quietly slipped in her bed and snapped her fingers. The burning candle turned dark.

/

"Please let it be a B, let it be a B…" Enid repeated in her seat, eyes fixed on the graded papers Miss Hardbroom was holding. The teacher did not seem amused by the essays and everyone was eager to know their grade. And prepared to cry and curse.

"Enid Nightshade – C _minus!_"

"C MINUS? But…why?" the girl protested before the self-preservation instinct that would tell her to shut up kicked in.

"Since the choice of your reading was so poetic and romantic, I said to myself I would reward you with an equally poetic grade. Since E as in _Edward _was not possible, I had to settle for a C as in _Cullen_. Hopefully that will please your heart which very much desires to find a vampire to love one day," Constance smirked.

"Ruby Cherrytree – B! Even though I am not keen on such nonsense as witches with wands and both sexes attending the same school, your essay had some good points about what the book teaches us in the often gray moral area. Good work there, Ruby."

The girl smiled. Miss Hardbroom, however, was not smiling. "Mildred Hubble. It seems that I am missing your essay. It would be for the first time in fourteen years that I would misplace someone's paper therefore I am assuming you did not turn it in. Is that correct?"

"No, Miss Hardbroom. I mean, yes Miss Hardbroom. Well…yes, I did not turn it in and no, you are correct. Ehm, wait, no…I didn't and yes you are. Correct, I mean." Mildred stuttered, fearing the consequences of her foolish act. Not giving the essay to Miss Hardbroom was not very smart on her part but she couldn't help herself. The witch made it clear that Mildred's story about ogres that got her accepted in Cackle's was not good enough and from that moment on, the young girl feared to show any creative work to the potions teacher. But now, she was regretting her earlier decision.

"Do you think it is acceptable not to turn in an essay you had to write for you homework?"

"No, Miss."

"You know what that means, Mildred. F as in _'For next time, I will remember to hand in my homework._'"

Maud Moonshine cut in their conversation (a very brave act, coming from the shy girl). "But Miss, the school policy states that when a piece of work that is longer than one page is supposed to be turned in, the pupil can turn it in later and get a 10% lower grade than she would get, had she turned it in on time."

Mildred gulped and looked as if she saw a kitten being torn to pieces by wild dogs. Maud felt like the kitten and Miss Hardbroom certainly shared a few characteristic of the wild dogs. After a few moments (when Mildred swore Miss Hardbroom was considering what would be the most painful way how to kill them and planning her alibi) the teacher sighed.

"Alright, yes, you are right. Mildred, I want your essay on my table. Now."

/

Back in her room, Miss Hardbroom had only one paper to grade. All day she was putting off the unpleasant action but it had to be done.

To her surprise, the young witch chose one of her favorite books: the Chronicles of Narnia by C.. The way she described the characters and the main thought of the book was well written, without any grammatical mistakes and much to Constance's delight, Mildred explained the philosophy and annotations hidden in the story. It was certainly the best piece of writing she had read in a long time (considering it came from a fourteen year old) and she was inclined to put an A on the paper. Realizing that would be unfair to the other girls, her red ink pen traced the letter B.

The witch put the paper away and blew the candle out (in a normal, non-witch way for a change), shaking her head. It was frustrating that a girl who obviously had a talent for writing (if not for anything else) did not have enough confidence to present the homework. If there was a virtue Constance hated, it was low self-esteem. 

_Such a waste of talent_, she thought and closed her eyes, ready to get her usual three hours of sleep.


End file.
